Treasure What You Already Have
by adromir
Summary: SUMMARY: After the disastrous result on their latest case, Jack the nephilim has ran off into hiding. Sam is frantic to find him. Dean, not so much. The Winchesters get into arguments, before Dean and Castiel go out working on a case instead, leaving Sam alone in the bunker. Situation normal, all fudge up.


A/N: Hello, there. This is my second Supernatural fiction. The first one, Cockrotoa, is still work in progress. As in, the final chapter is being written right now. So stay tuned. As for this fic, it takes place right after Season 13 Episode 6 "Tombstone". I'm sorry if Dean is being kind of a jerk, but it won't last long, I swear. He is still the awesome big brother that we all love.

Enjoy.

Or not.

SUMMARY: After the disastrous result on their latest case, Jack the nephilim has ran off into hiding. Sam is frantic to find him. Dean, not so much. The Winchesters get into arguments, before Dean and Castiel go out working on a case instead, leaving Sam alone in the bunker. Situation normal, all fudge up.

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

It was real quiet in the bunker.

The time was still fairly early, around 8.00 in the morning. Dean had not emerged from his room yet, as per usual. Castiel didn't spend the night there. He had gone out after dinner yesterday to search more clues for Jack's whereabouts. After Jack's abrupt and dramatic departure last week, that was the seraph's only mission. Search for Jack.

Not that the Winchesters were just sitting idly by. Dean had driven in the Impala all over Kansas for two days straight but found no trace of the missing nephilim. Meanwhile, Sam had exhausted all kind of resources he had—the internet, the books, the grimoire, the lore, you name it. But if Jack didn't want to be found, then he would stay missing.

At the library table, Sam briefly closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. After staring at the computer screen since he woke up that morning, the page of the search engine had started to blur around the edges and the words were jumping about, making him dizzy. He ruefully thought he might be getting too old for all this crap, and that his eyesight was beginning to fail him. He could be needing reading glasses very soon.

He leaned back with a groan, wistfully thinking that they had acquired more comfortable furniture. Sitting on an unpadded hard chair for hours was a real pain to his long and large physique, not to mention his back and ass. Especially his ass.

As he sat there, staring into space, his mind quickly drifted off. Mostly about Jack, and also his Mom, Castiel's death, and then Castiel's return from death. Within the last few weeks, so many things had happened so swiftly that Sam had troubles catching up, as if he got trapped in a time whirlpool.

Dean's temperamental mood swing was not helping things, either. Some days the elder Winchester was this silent and brooding hunter, simmering with unleashed anger, rushing eagerly into danger to annihilate all kind of monsters that dare to cross his path. Another day he would be this laughing happy cowboy fan, so excited to live a childhood dream, wearing a ten-gallon hat and a bolo tie while introducing himself as a Texas Ranger.

But there was another side of Dean that had been mostly displayed to his brother lately. His darker side, filled with hopelessness and despair, the one that he unleashed with pain and raw fury accompanied by sneering sarcasm and accusing shouts.

Sam could stoically take all the sneers and sarcasms. He could bear the shouts, even. Being the younger brother, he had had years of practice. What he couldn't stand was the complete shutdown that Dean gave him afterwards.

"I'm dandy, Sam. Good talk. Next!"

"There's nothing to discuss, okay? Just leave it alone!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine! Stop asking me that!"

"Mom is dead! Lucifer tore her to shreds! She's not coming back and we're not bringing this up again!"

"Cas is dead. You might be able to forget about it, but I can't!"

Only not long after, Castiel was resurrected somehow, which instantly threw Dean into a very good mood. They all then went to solve a case together as a team. Team Free Will 2.0, as Dean had put it. But the case hit a poor note when a civilian was killed, sending Jack running off in a guilty trip.

And Dean's mood swung back downhill.

Every time Sam had tried to bring up the issue of Jack or even Mom, the elder Winchester refused to listen. Dean's expression would go dark, right before he snarled back in response. Sam could still remember the huge row they had just last night, right before Dean grabbed a bottle of whisky and shut himself inside his room.

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

"Dean, I think we need to go back to that house by the lake."

"What house are you talking about?"

"The house in North Cove, where Jack was born. Maybe we can find him there."

Dean frowned back in response. "What makes you so sure he'll be there?"

"I'm not saying he'll be there. It's just…I have a feeling—"

"Oh, so we're taking actions based on your feelings now?" Dean chuckled derisively. "Sorry, Samantha. I don't grow any woman parts on me. So pass."

"But, Dean—"

"Look, Sam. If you want to go, then go. Just don't drag me into this whole crap anymore. I got better things to do. Booze, bullets, and bacon. Not necessarily in that order."

"A few days ago you went out searching for Jack up and down the state! You were worried then."

"That was then, this was now. I'm getting tired of him already. Besides, if Jack wants to leave, so we let him be. He's a big boy."

"He's not even a month old, Dean." Sam threw his arms in the air in frustration. "He's still too young to be out there by himself!"

"He is a lot powerful than any of us combined!" Dean shouted back. "He is more than capable taking care of himself."

"Exactly. He's powerful. I'm not only worried about him. I'm worried about other people too. The longer he's out there alone, the more people are in danger."

"So you agree then?"

"What are you talking about?"

"That Jack is a danger. A monster. A real threat to everyone. You finally admit that?"

Sam gave his brother a withering look. "I didn't say that. What I think is that Jack should be with us so we can teach him how to better control his powers."

"Oh, right, Mr. Miyagi. How's the training going so far? How many pencils has Jack moved lately? Or rather, how many times has the kid thrown you against the wall?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply but Dean beat him to it, "Not a very good teacher, are you, Sammy? So why bother."

Gritting his teeth, Sam retorted, "We need him, Dean."

"To open the door to the other dimension, so we can save Mom. Right, you've said that before," Dean replied, his green eyes glinting dangerously. "Just give it up already. Mom is dead. She's not coming back."

"The other day, you told me to keep the faith that she's still alive, that we can save her!"

"Yes, well, that's before the damned nephilim pulled a disappearing act! Now he's gone! The inter-dimensional can opener is gone! There's no way we can bring her back, dead or alive! Why can't you put your head around that?"

"Because I'm not ready to let her go! Not as easily as…" Sam's voice drifted off, but Dean knew instantly what he meant to say.

"Not as easily as I did? Is that what you're saying?"

"Dean…"

"He's my mother, god damn it! There's nothing easy about any of this!"

"I didn't mean—"

"You know what, Sam? Stow it. Just do whatever you want. I don't give a rat's ass. Good night."

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

Sam took a long deep breath and released it in one big sigh. There was no easy way to discuss about Jack or their mother with Dean these days, as if he had already lost hope. Sam had to admit though, his older brother had changed a great deal. In fact, both of them had changed.

The current Dean was a lot different than the young man that had barged into Sam's apartment in the middle of the night more than ten years ago. Dean was still a loyal, protective and caring older brother. And yet, he had grown rough around the edges from all the tragedies and losses they both suffered as hunters. He had turned a bit darker somewhat, more guarded, looking at the world through suspicious eyes. He rarely laughed as freely as before, his smiles were forced and mocking.

Sam missed the old Dean, who was not only a brother but an equal partner as well. Recently, Sam began to feel as if he was just a tag-along, a sidekick to Dean's hunting escapades. Dean gave the orders and expected everyone to comply, no questions asked. It was not usually like that before between the Winchester boys. They used to take actions as one; one mind, one heart.

Not any longer. Now they were more like a ship at sea, with Dean as captain at the helm and the rest of the world to follow his lead.

Resting his elbows on the table, Sam dropped his face into his hands. He felt guilty thinking of his brother in such a way, but he couldn't help feeling what he felt. He was afraid that Dean no longer found him as an equal partner, and that after all those years hunting together, going through heaven and hell and purgatory, Dean had finally grown tired of being part of a unit. He also sensed that Dean wanted to be more in control, some kind of his defense mechanism to avoid further pain and grief.

"What, you stay up all night, college boy?"

Sam jumped in his seat, startled. He looked up and found Dean staring back at him with raised eyebrows. No wonder Sam didn't hear the elder man's approach. Dean was barefoot under his sleeping robe.

Rubbing a hand down his tired face, Sam emitted a weak chuckle. "I went to bed not long after you did. But I woke up at 4.00 and couldn't go back to sleep."

"I've told you before, Sammy," Dean pointed out with a silly grin, "Booze and more booze. That's a sleep inducer. You should try it."

"No, thanks. I don't want the hangover you're having right now."

"I don't get a hangover. I'm a pro."

"Really? Then why are you wearing your robe inside out, with your t-shirt tucked into your boxers?"

Dean looked down and grimaced. He turned back to Sam and muttered, "Shut up."

Sam chuckled again as he watched his brother straighten his clothing. "Wait, Dean. Stop moving. I gotta record this with my phone."

"Do that and I'll shave your head bald." Dean looked around him, puzzled. "Where's Cas?"

"Hasn't returned yet."

Dean shrugged at that. "What's for breakfast?"

"Lucky Charms and milk."

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Dean demanded, "Did you at least make some coffee?"

"Yeah, it's in the kitchen, of course."

"Of course," Dean mimicked him. "Did you kill 'em all this time?"

"Hey, I left some for you," Sam replied, but he should have saved his breath because Dean had already staggered off towards the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Sam turned his attention back to his computer. He pulled another fresh page of a special program he had developed which alerted them to reports surfacing in the internet on all kinds of weird phenomenon. Some news about a very tall pale creature attacking a group of people spelunking in a cave in Missouri caught his interest.

"A wendigo, maybe?"

The sudden clang of the heavy main door of the bunker being pushed open cut off his thoughts. He peered across the doorway towards the war room, to better see the person now walking down the stairs. "Cas?"

"Yes, Sam. It's me," Castiel replied. The angel then joined Sam at the library.

"So? How did it go?"

Castiel shook his head. "No joy. I found no trace of Jack."

Sam sighed. "Me neither."

"I brought breakfast, though. IHOP. Bacon omelet for Dean and banana crepes for you." Castiel pointed at the package he had placed on the table.

In spite of it all, Sam managed to smile. "Thanks, Cas. That was kind of you."

"The least I could do." Castiel shrugged. "I've noticed that your pantry was a little low on supplies."

Chuckling, Sam pulled out the cardboard box containing the crepes. "Yeah, well, Dean eats like hamsters. Luckily you brought us these, or he would start gnawing on the furniture!"

As Sam started eating, the angel gave the man a long searching look. "Are you alright, Sam?"

Sam paused. "I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"

"You've just lost your mother. I'm sure it's hard for any child to bear, no matter how old you are."

With a sad smile, Sam responded, "I've been orphaned since I was a baby, Cas. Even when my Dad was around, it was Dean who mostly raised me. Losing my Dad hurt a lot because there were so many things left unsettled between us. But losing Mom is…"

Biting his lower lip, Sam then shrugged. "I don't know. How exactly should you feel when you lose something you actually never have?"

Castiel frowned. "Your mother, don't you love her?"

"Of course, I do." Sam pointed out. He pushed away his half-eaten breakfast. "But I don't have the kind of bond she has with Dean, you know? I'm not her first born."

Tilting his head to the side, Castiel commented, "You keep mentioning her in the present tense. You think she's still alive."

"No, I believe she's still alive. I'm not losing that hope yet."

"She was with Lucifer. He could have killed her already. In fact, Lucifer killed me."

Sam gave Castiel a telling smile. "Exactly. And you are alive now."

"I did die, Sam. I was resurrected afterwards. That's the difference."

"But, still…" Sam shrugged and said no more on that.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said, quietly.

"Sorry for what?"

"For dying on you."

Sam kindly responded, "Not your fault, Cas."

"It must have been hard, losing not only your mother but me as well."

"Yeah. Dean was very devastated," Sam said. "When you returned, I've never seen him so happy. He called it a win. He really needs that."

"I'm not talking about Dean, Sam. I'm your friend too. Or am I not?"

Sam stared back, uncertain. "Indeed, you are. Cas, what are you—?"

"Dean was not the only one left devastated when I died," Castiel cut him off. "So were you. Now let me ask you again. Are you alright?"

Sam hesitated, unsure how to respond. "What are you trying to do here, Cas? Psycho analyzing me?"

"No. I'm just concerned about you. I've known Dean long enough to gather that he tends to express his emotion without constrain, even though he denies it till his face turns blue. But you…you prefer to keep everything bottled up inside. And that is not healthy. You need to talk to someone."

"Talk to who? Dean? That's like adding fuel to the fire." Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Cas, I'm fine. Okay? So everything has gone to shit the last few weeks, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna curl up in bed and cry into my pillow, or go berserk and trash the bunker. I'll be alright. Thanks for asking, though."

"I'll be here if you want to talk."

Sam slowly nodded with raised eyebrows. "Right. Okay, Cas, since when did you become Dr. Phil?"

"Doctor who?"

"Doctor Who? Hey, Cas, you're back. What, you're binge-watching Doctor Who now?" Dean suddenly emerged from the kitchen, carrying a mug of coffee in one hand and a double-slice of PB J in the other.

Sam rolled his eyes. "We're not discussing Doctor Who, you moron. I said, Cas here is acting like Dr. Phil."

As he munched on his PB J, Dean asked the angel, "So why are you acting like Dr. Phil?"

Castiel blinked. "Who is Dr. Phil?"

The brothers glanced at each other and broke into laughter.

"Never mind," Sam said. "Forget about Dr. Phil for now. We have other major issues to think about."

"Bacon omelet! Wow. You got this for me, Cas? You're a lifesaver." Dean finally noticed the package on the table, and he quickly dug into it. "Sam here, he never cooks for me. And he always, always forgets to get me pie."

Sam glared back. "You told me the kitchen was your domain and I'm not welcomed to cook anything there except boiling water to make coffee!"

Dean had the gall to smirk at his brother in return. "Shut up."

Turning to Castiel, he said, "I'm bored. I really need to work on a case. Let's go do some hunting."

"Wait, what about Jack?" Sam asked.

"What about him?" Dean nonchalantly asked, quickly finishing off his omelet.

"Well, the fact that he's missing, and we need to find him soon before—"

"Before he kills more innocent people?" Dean interjected.

Sam gritted his teeth. "Before he gets hurt and hurt anyone else in return. Jack is not gonna kill innocent people on a whim. He's not a psychopath!"

"Yeah, whatever. Enough about Jack. I'm not gonna go through the same argument again." Dean grabbed Sam's laptop and turned the screen towards him. "You find anything strange on the hunting front? Other than the runaway Lucifer's spawn, that is?"

"Dean, Jack is—"

"A wendigo! I bet this is what I think it is." Ignoring his brother's protests, Dean continued to read the report of the recent attacks in the cave in Missouri. He looked up, smiling wide. "We have a case here, people. An easy hunt, looks like. Get in, get bat-shit crazy, get out. Easy-peasy."

He pushed back his chair, saying, "Go grab your stuff! We're leaving in twenty minutes."

Sam stared, dumbfounded, as Dean rushed off towards his room. He was still staring when Castiel quietly called his name, "Sam."

Startled, Sam turned towards the angel. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

Chuckling without humor, Sam replied, "I think you've asked me that three times already. I'm fine, Cas."

"But you look so…so sad."

"I'm not sad."

"You are not pleased, either."

Sighing, Sam looked away from the angel's probing gaze. "What I feel doesn't matter."

"But you matter to me, to Dean. He should have realized that you are not eager to join this hunt."

"Thanks, Cas. But Dean has a mind of his own. Who am I to disprove whatever he wants to do?"

"You're his brother. You have every right, have you not?"

Sam went silent. There were certain parts about human relationships that the angel was still unable to understand, and Sam couldn't find the right words to explain more at the moment.

Less than twenty minutes later, Dean reappeared with a knapsack slung over one shoulder. He had hastily showered and shaved, a smile of anticipation adorning his handsome face. But the smile fell flat when saw his younger brother still sitting at the library table.

"Sam, What the hell? Why aren't you packed?"

Sam briefly hesitated. "I never said I'm coming along, Dean."

"What? Of course, you're coming. You always do."

"How can you be so sure? You don't even bother to ask me."

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Alright, princess. Would you like to join me hunt some wendigos and sasquatches or any other monsters in between? Or do you want that written on an RSVP invitation card as well?"

Hurt by his brother's mocking tone, Sam's eyes welled up with sudden tears but he quickly blinked them away and steadily responded, "No, Dean. I'm not joining you."

Dean's returning gaze was as stony as a wall when he said, "You're sure you're not coming?"

"I am perfectly sure."

"Just because I didn't ask your opinion, that bothers you? What, I hurt your ego or something?"

"Dean, no—"

"Ah, to hell with this!" Dean fumed. "Fine. Stay here, if that's what you want. Keep googling for your lost nephilim, whatever. Me? I'm going hunting, doing things I do best, saving lives and all that shit. Cas, you're free to join my sister here. Have fun painting nails and braiding each other's hair. I'm gone."

As the elder Winchester stomped up the stairs, Castiel continued to stand next to Sam's chair, watching with mixed reactions.

"Sam?"

The blue-green eyes which stared back at him were huge and glistening, filled with hurt and misery.

"Go, Cas," Sam softly said.

"Go where?"

"Go with Dean. He needs you more than he needs me right now."

"What about you?"

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. I'll continue searching for Jack."

Castiel nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Call me if you find anything, or when you need anything, Sam."

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Go now, before he leaves you behind."

"Okay." Castiel started to walk towards the stairs.

"And Cas?"

The angel turned back around. "Yes, Sam?"

"Watch his back for me. Keep him safe."

"I will. I promise."

Sam emitted a reassuring smile before he focused his attention back to his laptop.

At the top of the stairs, Castiel paused to take one last look at the lone figure in the library. Sam's head was bent, turning slightly away from his view, but the angel could clearly see when the man wiped the moisture off his cheek.

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

Three days later, Dean was still not a happy man.

Sure, the hunt had been a great success. In fact, they had found not one, but two wendigos. A trap had been set for the creatures, but Castiel dampened the excitement when he had grabbed both wendigos and knocked their heads together to smithereens. The only thing left for Dean to do was to burn the carcasses. He had not the opportunity to even shoot his gun.

Driving towards home under a stormy weather, Dean scowled at the angel sitting in the passenger seat next to him.

"You are a buzzkill," he complained.

Castiel had to roll his eyes. "You've said that, over and over since we left that cave."

"Yeah, and I'm saying it again. You are a buzzkill!"

"What did you want me to do, Dean? Let the wendigos tear you apart?"

"I've had them! I could have nailed them with my gun."

"Not both of them at once, you couldn't. One of the creatures was about to slash its claws into your back when you were busy with the other one. So I had to intervene." Castiel shrugged. "Besides, I've promised Sam."

Dean sent the angel a quick glance. "What did you promise him?"

"He wanted me to watch your back, and to keep you safe."

Dean stared at his friend for several moments before returning his attention to the road. "He really said that? Huh. Didn't know he would care."

"He cares a lot, Dean. In fact, he loves you more than anyone else, if you must now."

"I know that. Everyone knows that."

Dean sighed. Something felt wrong somewhere. They had just killed some monsters, they had saved countless of lives like he wanted. So why wasn't he feeling any better? "He could at least call."

"After all those things you've said to him, can you blame him for not calling you?" Castiel pointed out.

Dean scowled. But he had to admit, he had been missing his brother since the day they left the bunker. "Okay, so I was way over the line. But his obsession with Jack really bugs me. He is being too attached to that kid."

"That's how Sam is, Dean. You know him better than anyone else," Castiel said, "Sam is the noblest human being I've ever met. He has gone through hell and back, tortured by Lucifer himself for hundreds of years. But what did Sam do? He took Lucifer's own son under his wings and treats him with kindest and great patience, nurturing him to be good. We both know how strong Sam really is, but it takes immense strength and courage to face the spawn of your biggest enemy. You should be proud of him, not belittling his effort."

While Castiel was talking, Dean wanted to shout at him to shut the hell up. His hands fisted tightly around the wheel, glaring at the wipers going at high speed. But he also understood that Castiel spoke the truth. It was his own stubbornness that wouldn't let him see how torn up Sam must have been feeling.

Relaxing his grip on the wheel, Dean sighed in resign. "I hate to say this, but…you're right. I didn't treat Sam fairly. I was being a jerk. I'll talk to him when we get back."

"Yes, do that. And promise me you won't make him cry again."

Dean was flabbergasted. "I did what?"

"You made him cry, Dean. I saw him wiping off tears the day we left him alone at the bunker. He thought I couldn't see him, but I did."

"But that…I was just…" Dean started to protest, but he thought better of it. "You know what? I'm gonna call him. I'm calling him right now!"

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he used the other hand to fish his cellphone out of his jacket and started dialing. He was dismayed later when the call went directly to voice mail.

"Shit."

"What's wrong, Dean?"

"Not connecting. I'll try the other numbers."

He dialed all the numbers of the various cellphones they kept inside the bunker, but Sam was not answering any one of them. Dean's big-brother antennae instantly went up. "Something's wrong."

"Maybe he's not available to answer. Maybe the battery of his phone died, or…"

"Or maybe because he can't! Maybe he is hurt or unconscious or…or…"

"Dean, you're getting ahead of yourself. I'm sure Sam has a good reason why he doesn't answer you call."

"Exactly! And that reason is always bad if it's concerning Sam. That kid is such a trouble magnet since he was a baby," Dean grumbled, pushing down the accelerator to its limit. "The last time I left him behind, I returned home to find his blood on the floor and that he has been abducted by the British Men of Letters. If it happens again, I swear to God I'm gonna burn down the damned bunker!"

"Easy, Dean. You're going over the speed limit," Castile cautioned him. "And it's raining much harder now. The car might hydroplane."

Dean didn't care. He focused on the road with grim determination, fully trusting his Baby to bring them back home safely. With the worsening weather, it would take them over three more hours to reach the bunker.

No problem. Dean grimly thought. I can make it in two.

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

"Sam!" Dean shouted the moment he entered the bunker. "SAMMY!"

There was no response. The war room and library were deserted, no sign of Sam anywhere. Dean and Castiel hurriedly went down the stairs, and that was where they noticed the muddy boot prints all over the steel steps.

"What the hell?" Dean inspected the prints closely. They were of Sam's size. No one else they knew had feet that huge.

"Dean!" Castiel cried out, pointing at more boot prints on the floor of the war room.

Dean rushed over. His eyed widened to see the blood smears there, mixed together with dirt and mud. "No, no, no…Not again. Please, not again!"

Pulling out his gun, he told Castiel, "Go check the kitchen and the basement. I'll go check the rooms."

Without waiting for the angel's reply, Dean walked stealthily down the hallway leading towards their living quarters. He checked every room and found them all empty. So were his bedroom. At Sam's room however, also unoccupied, he found his brother's bloodied jeans and shirt.

Dean's eye narrowed, his heart beating faster.

Sammy's hurt, Sammy's hurt, Sammy's hurt…

His mind kept repeating the same words, over and over. His grip on the gun tightened, as he had this wild urge to shoot the people responsible for making his brother bleed. But first, he needed to find Sam. That had always been his top priority.

As he stepped out of Sam's room, his ears caught the sound of running water. It seemed to come from the bathroom just two doors away. With his gun raised, Dean walked steadily towards it. He was right in front of the bathroom door when he heard Sam's cry of pain.

Big brother instinct won over. Without giving a warning, Dean kicked down the door and burst in with a yell.

"SAM!"

Standing naked under the shower, Sam instantly whirled around at the sudden intrusion.

"Jesus! What the fuck!" Blinking water out of his eyes, he stared back in great surprise. "Dean?"

Dean dumbly stared for several seconds. "Sam, you're okay?"

"You scared the crap out of me! What on earth are you doing?" Sam grumbled, turning to one side to cover his exposed groin. "I'm showering here!"

"Just answer the question!" Dean shouted, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm okay! What the hell is the matter with you?"

"So there are no hostiles?"

"What hostiles? Dean, are you insane? Put the gun down, for God's sake!"

Sighing with relief, Dean lowered his weapon. He then noticed the long bloody gash on Sam's right thigh. He came closer to look. "That. What is that?"

Sam glanced down. "It's nothing, it's just—hey, hey! What are you doing? Back off, Dean! Stop poking at it!"

"Who did that?"

"No one!" Sam fumed, growing more exasperated by the minute. "It was an accident."

"What accident? What happened?"

"Seriously? Do I have to explain now, while I'm buck naked in the shower?"

"Sammy…" Dean growled.

"Okay, okay." Sam sighed, resigned. He knew that Dean would not easily drop the matter until he got the full answer. "I went out to get supplies. It rained heavily on my way back, and a vehicular accident happened right in front of me. A truck and a minivan, both went into a ditch. Several people were trapped inside the sinking van so I helped rescue them."

"The blood on your shirt I found in your room?"

"Not mine, of course. It came from the injured victims."

"That wound on your leg?"

"It got scraped against a torn metal while I was trying to pull a guy out, that's all."

Satisfied with the answers given, Dean finally allowed himself to relax. He briefly closed his eyes, saying, "God! Don't ever do that to me again."

"Do what?"

"I saw blood on the floor outside, and I thought…" Dean's voice trailed off as he wearily shook his head.

Sam's gaze softened as he understood. "With my muddied boots, the floor was slippery. I fell on my wound. Hence, the blood."

"Right. Okay. I'm glad you're fine," Dean sheepishly said. Now that he was reassured that no harm had befallen his brother, he finally realized the awkwardness of the situation.

"Um…thanks for the concern, man. Now, can I get back to my shower?"

"Oh, right. Yeah. Okay," Dean mumbled as he stepped backwards towards the door.

But Castiel suddenly chose that moment to appear. "Dean. You've found Sam."

"Holy mother—!" Swearing, Sam grabbed a towel from the rack to cover his front. "This is so not funny, guys."

"Yeah, I found him," Dean replied with a shrug.

Castiel eyed Sam, up and down. "He is alright."

"He is, thank God."

"Get out. Both of you." Gritting his teeth, Sam held on to the towel like a weapon. "I'm trying to shower here."

"You are embarrassed," Castiel solemnly said. "You shouldn't be ashamed of your body, Sam. It was sculpted to perfection by God, a beauty bestowed upon—"

"Get. Out. NOW!" Sam had gone red in the face, as red as a ripe tomato.

Chuckling, Dean hurriedly pushed the angel out the door. "We had better do as he says, Cas. Sammy hates it when we ogle his little Sammy."

A shampoo bottle flew through the air and would have hit Dean on his head if he had not managed to shut the door in time. Outside in the hallway, he bent over laughing.

Castiel simply looked on, puzzled. "What's so funny?"

Still chortling, Dean straightened. "No, nothing. It's just…never mind. What matters now is that Sam is totally fine."

"But all that blood? Where do they come from?"

Dean related Sam's explanation to Castiel. "My little brother hurt himself helping others. Again. Same old story."

"I can heal his wound," Castiel offered.

"No, it's okay, Cas. I'll take it from here."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I've been patching him up his entire life. It's nothing I haven't done before."

"If you said so. I'll leave you to it." Castiel smiled. "Meanwhile, I'll go and resume my search for Jack."

Dean nodded. "Call us if you get anything."

"I will."

"And, Cas? Thank you for what you said earlier in the car. You made me realize that I need to treasure the one that I still have instead of mourning the one that I've lost."

The angel smiled. "You are welcome, Dean."

*SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN*

Sam returned to his room soon after, and was not overjoyed to find Dean already waiting there with a first-aid kit.

"Sit down on the bed," Dean ordered him.

"That's not necessary. I can deal with this myself."

"Sammy, just…just do what I told you." Dean gave him a beseeching look. "Please? For me?"

Sighing, Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine! I can't believe you just gave me the puppy-dog eye."

"Now you know how I feel every time you give me the exact same look. Sit down before your towel falls off."

Grumbling under his breath, Sam limped towards the bed and gingerly took his seat. Dean dragged a chair closer before he also sat down. He then gently took Sam's wounded leg and placed it across his lap.

Dean winced involuntarily when he scrutinized the 4-inch long gash that was still seeping blood. "This looks nasty. Not a good idea showering with this exposed."

"Yeah, stings like hell." Sam grimaced, leaning his back against the wall. "But I had to get rid of the mud first. They were even in my hair."

"Oh, God forbid. How dare the mud mess with your hair!" Dan teased, as he deftly cleaned the wound.

Long silence ensued while Dean concentrated on his task. His hands were sure yet gentle as he expertly sewed the gash close.

"So…" Sam cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "The hunt went well?"

"Yep," Dean replied without looking up. "But Cas killed the excitement before it even began."

"Oh?"

"I didn't kill the wendigos. He did. Buzzkill."

Sam had to smile. "That bad, huh?"

"Shut up."

"Okay."

Silence again for a full minute, and then, "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"So your phone is busted, huh?" Dean pointed at Sam's iPhone sitting atop the dresser. The thing was smudged with mud.

Sam made a face. "It was in my jeans when I went down the ditch. Everything got wet. I need to buy a new one."

"Let's go phone-shopping tomorrow then."

"Okay."

"Sammy?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Dean looked up. "I'm sorry for everything. For being a jerk. Again. For all those stupid things I said. And for not being as supportive as I should. I have not been the good brother that you need."

Sam blinked, and had to look away from Dean's earnest gaze. "You are now."

Smiling, Dean focused his attention back on the gash, wrapping it up with sterile bandages. "To tell you the truth, Sammy, I cannot lose you. Now that Mom's gone, you're all I have. You know that right?"

"You still got Cas, though," Sam quietly said.

Dean shrugged. "I can still move on when Cas died. We both know that for a fact, though I was a real monster to live with. But if something happens to you, I…I don't think I can…"

Dean swallowed hard, unable to finish.

"That's why I have you," Sam said, his face kind and understanding. "It's your job, right? Watching out for your pain-in-the-ass baby brother?

Dean returned Sam's smile. "Damn right."

Finishing up, Dean then rose from the chair and gathered the first-aid kit. "Okay, done. You're good as new."

"Gee. Thanks, Florence."

"Shut up, bitch."

"Ditto, jerk." Sam chuckled. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You hungry? I bought you some pies."

"Cherry?"

"And blueberry. I put them in the kitchen. A little warning, though. When I fell, I landed on those pies. They might be a little…squashed."

"Pie is still pie. It tastes the same good taste inside your mouth." Dean smirked.

Sam laughed. "Get outta here and go eat those pies. I need to get dressed."

"Oh, don't be ashamed of your body, Sammy. Like Cas said, it's beautifully sculptured by God and—"

His words were cut short when a flying pillow hit him on the face.

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

*THE END*

You guys enjoy that? No? Oh, I'm so sorry. Anyway, thanks for reading. I'll return soon with more awful adventures of the Winchesters. Ta-ta.

Adromir has left the building. _


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